


A Different Perspective

by QueenoftheHobbits



Series: Soft Thighs Series [55]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, overweight reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 18:38:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8338369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheHobbits/pseuds/QueenoftheHobbits
Summary: You hate having your picture taken, but sometimes it takes seeing yourself from another perspective to understand what other’s really see.





	

You had always hated having your photograph taken, it had started around the age of 9 or 10, when you started to notice that you were bigger than other people in your classes, when pictures in teenage magazines didn’t look like you and people started calling you names. It all made you averse to photographs, to seeing yourself, every part of yourself, seeing the lumps, the bumps, the size of you all on show in a still. 

Bucky knew this, he’d seen you shy away from group photos, from Wanda asking for a selfie (those were still pretty new to him), from all kinds of photography. And he might have lost a lot of memories and he might have been in a place where his brain was pretty scrambled...but he knew why you didn’t like your photo being taken. It wasn’t just a 21st century creation that had girls cowering away from cameras and hiding from sight. It wasn’t just a modern thing that people could be cruel, that people could be insecure, that they could be scared. 

It was almost worrying to him just how obvious your dislike for your own body was, he could see it in the little things. The way you hunched over and tried to make yourself look smaller, the way you held in your stomach when forced into a photo, the fake smiles, the clothing that covered as much skin as possible...and the crying he could sometimes hear through the walls. He didn’t and he did understand it at the same time, he understood self-loathing...he understood it incredibly well. What he didn’t understand was why you? You were beautiful or he thought you were beautiful...soft, kind, the times you really did smile made the room light up, eager to help him, always there, and just very, very pretty. But he understood that maybe it wasn’t so easy to see yourself like that if life had been telling you otherwise...that sometimes different perspectives were needed to see what others saw, that your own was something that needed to be pushed aside or changed...like how he had to stop looking at himself like the enemy and start looking at himself as someone who needed to push forward, someone who was a victim and needed to recover. 

So when he got a camera for his birthday, some fancy new thing that Wanda had to show him how to use, he decided that you were going to be his main subject. Why worry about sunsets when you were there? Radiant but also in need of photos to show a different side. He figured that if he took some and he showed you how he saw you then...then maybe you’d started to see that too, start to see how good you were. 

So he took this pictures; one when you were laughing at a joke Nat made and weren’t looking at him, your face light up, creases at the corners of your eyes and head thrown back, body jiggling with laughter. One where you were reading a book, feet tucked under large thighs, warm cardigan wrapped around you, and a wistful look across your features. One where you were cooking the team a meal, domesticity all over you, apron wrapped around your thick waist, and a hot tray in your hands. One where you had fallen asleep on the settee watching a movie, your hands curled into little fists, and your legs had fallen into his lap. 

He took even more than those, any time he could take a picture without you knowing he did and he compiled a photo album, one that he was going to give you that would...maybe show you what he thought and what he felt. So, being the deceptively quiet person that he was, once the album was full and a message or two was written in the bindings, he left it outside your door and hoped you’d see it before anyone else and that rather than viewing it as creepy you’d understand his sentiment.

He wasn’t a man of many words anymore, but maybe pictures showed more of what he wanted to show you than words could ever do. 

You had found it, of course you had, it was right outside your door, staring up at you innocently...and you’d taken it out of curiosity, mostly. The album was thick, leather bound, a proper album, not one of the cheap ones that everyone brought for someone’s eleventh birthday. And it was full. You could tell before you even opened it, it was seemingly bursting at the seams...

You weren’t sure what you’d expected when you did open it...not the opening message that told you you were beautiful, that you made the giver smile and that they wanted you to smile too, to see yourself differently...and certainly not the pages upon pages of photographs of you. Photos of you doing seemingly normal and meaningless things.

But it became very apparent to you as you flickered through each page that the intention was so show you differently and to help you see yourself differently, and surprisingly? It worked. The first few pages were painful, before the dissolved into little smiles as little things started to make you look at the pictures differently. In that one your smile was pretty, in this one your hair looked nice, over here your hips looked awesome, in this one your stomach look sweet...and increasingly each photo seemed to show case a different part of you in a way that you very rarely thought of them before. In a positive way...and it was like opening up your eyes.

Sure it wasn’t an immediate fix to all the problems, but it was a start, an ‘I like the feeling of seeing myself like this, of being happy with myself’, an ‘I want to keep feeling like that’...

You supposed maybe Bucky didn’t know how you’d react that’s why he’d left it, and left his name in the cover...but this was perhaps the best gift anyone had ever given you. The realisation that you could be happy, happy with yourself...and it had you stalking down the hall to his room because you’d never felt such affection for anyone in your life. 


End file.
